If
a visiting student were to ask why she was hated so much there would
be no legitimate response.

No
one really knows why they hate her.

They
just do.

It's
like having the latest oversize Coach bag or the newest style of Ugg
boots.

It's
a basic of life at American High School. Everyone relies on the price
and brand of their handbag to make friends.

Elsie
carries a brown pleather bag.

The
girls of America High only wear their hair long and straight. The
majority of the girls have varying tints and shades of platinum
blonde. Yes, apparently, platinum blonde has tints and shades.

Elsie's
hair is curly and bright red. The "it" pair of shoes are Jimmy
Choo heels. Only black, no other colors. Everyone who is anyone owns
at least 7 pairs of the same shiny, black, 3-inch Jimmy Choo heels.
They wear them to school every day. Except for Wednesdays. On
Wednesdays, they wear Puma sneakers. Those come in red, orange,
yellow, green, and blue. Cliques have different corresponding colors.
Different cliques get unreasonably angry when other different cliques
wear the same color Pumas.

Elsie
wears brightly colored converse sneakers every day.

Except
on the warm days when she wears dirty white flip-flops.

Every
girl in American High owns exactly 8 shirts. 5 designer labels for
during the week, 2 for the weekend, and 1 just in case and of the
designer shirts are damaged or stained. The designer weekday shirts
all scoop too low and ride too high. They must be from big name
designers. They all have to be a cool color (white, blue, green,
purple, every color in between) and they all have to hit just above
the belly button (that way your $35,000 diamond encrusted belly
button ring is perfectly visible. At least one of the shirts has to
be rhinestone studded in a corresponding color, but you may not wear
more that 2 rhinestone studded shirts in any given week.

The
weekend shirts are either tanks or camis. One of them must have lace
trim and one has to have a vintage necklace design down the front.
These weekend shirts must be any warm color – red, orange, yellow,
black. The one extra shirt can be anything as long as it doesn't
have lace, ruffles, studs, eyelets, smocking patterns, sleeves,
logos, designs stripes, buttons, creativity, pleats, or knitting. It
is simply a replacement until you can get your hands on a designer
shirt.

The
basic cornerstone of every American High closet is the micro-mini
skirt. They are worn at all times. They must hit no lower than the
middle of your thigh. They must be pleated, ruffled, or straight.
They must be plaid, jean, or one solid color. They must coordinate
with your designer shirt. On the weekend, they may be angled and the
lowest point may fall no longer than 2 inches above your kneecap.
They must coincide with your weekend shirt or else there's no
reason to wear them.

Elsie
wears rock band t-shirts and skinny jeans in all colors of the
rainbow. There is no official dress code at American High. But there
is one code everyone follows.

Everyone
hates Elsie.

We
hate the way she dresses and the natural curl of her fiery red hair
and her colorful converse sneakers. We hate her outgoing personality
ad dark sense of humour and we hate her green eyes and pale skin and
freckles.

We
hate her because she's different.

Because
the rest of us work so hard to achieve what we like to think of as
"perfection."

The
American High students base themselves off of the way they look. As
long as you own a coach bag and a flat iron, you fit in at the top of
the delicate ecosystem of American High.

It's
hard to be the one sore thumb that sticks out in a crowd of designer
thumbs wearing expensive diamond rings. But Elsie doesn't really
mind being the heart of everyone's hatred.

Much.

Elsie
doesn't worry about perfection. She doesn't care that her shirt
doesn't have Christian Dior across the chest that her Converse
aren't black and shiny and raised 3-inches. Elsie ignores the mean
jokes and whispers spoken about her. Elsie pretends not to notice the
mocking stares of the American High student body. Elsie stands tall.
Elsie marches down the hallway confidently. Elsie goes on being
Elsie, the girl who everyone hates.

Elsie
cries every day after school.

Elsie
knows that being different comes with a heavy price. Because in
American High, there is no beauty in standing out. Elsie knows it's
like being a sunfish in a pool of hungry sharks.

They'll
devour her.

Tear
her to pieces.

Rip
her to shreds.

That's
how they got the others to change. Dye their hair, fake tan, shop in
designer stores.

Peer
pressure.

The
need to fit in.

If
American High wasn't to damn judgmental, Elsie might not be hated
so much.

Ahs
she hates being hated.

Who
really cares?

Who
needs fancy purses and straight blonde hair and 3-inch heels and 5
designer shirts that have only designer labels and plaid, pleated
skirts that coordinate with the stupid designer shirts and lack of
dress codes?

Who
needs that?

Who
wants that?

How
can anyone truly want that?

Hi.
My name is Elsie Rivers, the most hated girl in American High.

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